


A forlorn hope

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: section7mfu, Gen, Mission Reports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 17:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15491403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Short Affair challenge. Prompts: borrow, print, blackThe Accounts Department is having a crackdown on expenditure. Illya loses out





	A forlorn hope

Illya’s typewriter was irreparably broken. The carriage return shrieked every time he used it and now some of the keys had twisted and torn the ribbon. He turned it upside down and bits of metal fell out onto the desk. He fiddled with everything he could reach with either his fingers or a screwdriver. It was beyond resuscitation.

“Did you frighten it to death, or just hit it too hard?” Napoleon enquired.

“I worked it too hard – mostly on your behalf, I may say.”

<><> 

Napoleon requisitioned a new one and was told that Section Two would have to wait until next month to replace it – Mr Waverly’s orders about expenditure were being taken seriously by Accounts.

“We can get a new one in three weeks,” said Napoleon.

“So, I’ll have to write everything by hand till then?”

“Yep, and and pass it to the typists. You do have a pen, I hope?”

“I can’t write as fast as I think.”

“Well, think of it as nature’s way of telling you to slow down.”

Illya snorted and stood up. “I’m going to see if I can find a spare typewriter,” he said and took the broken one away for disposal.

<><><> 

The women in the typists’ office looked up and expressions softened when they saw who it was. It was a motherly softening on the whole, rather than the softening that Napoleon was exposed to, though there were one or two whose thoughts had no motherly qualities whatsoever.

Smiling vaguely, but not specifically at anyone, he looked around hopefully for an empty desk. Seeing one in the corner, he went to look at the typewriter sitting on it. A little frisson ran around the room – he wasn’t going to sit with them, was he?

He looked up and asked, “Is anyone using this typewriter?”

“No. Marla’s left to have a baby.”

“Oh. Can I borrow this typewriter, then?”

They supposed so. Marla’s replacement wasn’t due to arrive till next month. Illya smiled – Accounts ruled the roost here too, it seemed, but usefully this time. “I’m only without one till then. I’ll bring it back when she comes.” And he lifted it from the desk and carried it out. One of the typists held the door for him.

“Thank you, Meryl,” he said and smiled.

“… right into my eyes,” she told the others when he’d gone. “He knew my name,” she said, a hand on her palpitating heart.

“He knows the name of everyone in the building, honey. I’ve seen him looking at the staff photos – I think he learns things off by heart just for practice,” one of the older women said. Meryl’s hopes deflated and she sat down again.

<><><> 

Illya came in and put the machine down on his desk with a flourish. Napoleon was unimpressed – he hadn’t doubted his partner’s ability to purloin anything he really wanted to have. “Who did you steal that from?” he said.

Illya treated that with the disdain it deserved and inserted a sheet of paper. “Merely borrowed,” he said. “I’m going to finish that report for you and then I’m only going to do my own stuff from now on.”

“I’m in favour in the typists’ office,” Napoleon said. “I can call for help any time.”

Illya was typing. “I find that entirely credible. This print is too faint. The ribbon is worn out,” he said. “Have you been asking Marla to do your typing when I’m not around?”

“How did you know that?”

“It’s Marla’s machine. I hope she wasn’t one of the women you were in favour with – she has left to have a baby.”

“Not mine, Illya, I can assure you. What’s the matter now?”

Illya was rummaging in his desk. “I thought I had a new black ribbon. This one is half red – can’t use that.”

“You could use black for my reports and red for yours. Then everyone would know which was which.”

“They do already. Mine are stylish and literate and I’ll wrap this ribbon round your neck if you’re not careful – they’ll know who did that.”

“I wouldn’t try it. Not until you’ve checked with Accounts that you can have a new one.”

<><><><><>


End file.
